The Cronicles of Life
by Double the Fun
Summary: A gathering of humorous stories about random characters having notsogood days, if you get my drift. Well, we think its funny. This time up: Megan
1. Charlie and the Microwave

The Cronicles of Life

Chapter One: Charlie

Author: Double the Fun

Disclaimer: We do not in any way, shape, or form own Numb3rs. But we sure wish we did...

For more info, see Bio.

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There are times in life when Man finds himself facing unimaginable danger, caught in between making the right decision and the easy one. Times when life seems to be against him all the way, intent on not granting him even the slightest relief from the forces of evil, when he must either lay down his pride, or perish. Times when he must ask for assistance or suffer the results of his own failed attempts forever.

Charlie glared at the microwave.

He couldn't figure out what was wrong with the damned thing. It just wouldn't cook, and when it did, it didn't seem to want to shut off. Other than just putting it out of its misery with a blunt object, he really had no idea what to do. Calling Don was out of the question, and while buying a new one seemed like a good idea, every single one he saw in the store had more buttons and gizmos than spaceship.

Charlie wasn't about to give up just yet, but at the moment, his infallible math seemed to be… failing him. Everything he tried had backfired or flat out not worked at all. He had gone as far as taking the back off and peering at its internal do-hickies and thingy-ma-bobs, and that just confused him more. He had forgotten to unplug it, and touching one of its wires resulted in a nice little introduction to the world of electricity.

When Charlie regained consciousness (he now had a new respect for the patients of electro-shock therapy), he gave the microwave wide berth on his whilst making his escape, seriously considering procuring a crucifix or a clove of garlic to protect him from its dark powers. He wasn't going to touch it again, not without unplugging it first, which thus required him to touch it again- _not_ going to happen. He called a temporary cease-fire and retreated to the dinning room table to think.

He tried every possible solution he could think of and still didn't have any answers. What was going to do, call Don? Not a chance, by the time his brother finished laughing he could've made significant progress towards solving p vs. np. He could go back into the battle arena and take another crack at it…

He didn't like the thought of touching it again, but as he re-evaluated his options, he realized there was no way around it. He swallowed his pride and walked back into the kitchen, pulling on his fathers thick leather gloves that he used when working with power tools( like buzz saws). He carefully unplugged the microwave and looked at it, praying to God that he hadn't accidentally made things worse.

It was then that the microwave decided to unleash its most deadly weapon. It exploded.

Charlie stood less than a foot from it, and because of that he received a face full of plastic, metal, and fiber glass. He jerked away from the now flaming wreckage, felt his voice reach a pitch that eluded him since he was about twelve, and ran for the phone. He was just about to call Don, when he realized that by calling him, he would be giving up. And Don would never let him live that down.

After about twenty minutes, he finally had the flames under control without calling the Fire Department. He surveyed the damage done to his kitchen, and knew there was no way he'd be able to fix it on his own. Though he felt pretty damn manly having triumphed over the appliance from Hell (winning by default was still winning), he finally stuffed his pride and picked up the phone.

"Hey Don? Yea, about lunch..."

fin


	2. Charlie, Don, and the Mischievous Math

Finally, Chapter two! The co-author and I have been extremely wighted down with rl, but last night I had a stroke of inspiration. Seriously, it whapped me upside the head and said 'Write Me."

This is another Charlie-centric chapter, including some brotherly 'bonding' with Don. Be advised that this is a blast from the past fic, from Charlie and Don's' high school days. I borrowed the idea from another fic I read from the Gundam Wing category. If you can find it and tell me the name, I'll give you a chance to have the plot of your choice in an upcoming chapter.

Now sit back and enjoy the latest installment:

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It really was a lovely afternoon; the sun was shining, the birds were singing. There were probably even puppies playing in the park somewhere, with it being all perfect day and such.

It was days like these that Charlie wished he had a window seat, just so he'd have_something_ to do. He could watch the cars drive by, or the other kids his age playing during recess at the Elementary School down the street. He could calculate the angles of the freaking_sunbeams_.

He'd already learned everything he could from this particular class, and re-checked it all to be absolutely certain. The teacher was droning on and on about something he learned years ago and long since mastered, and could it get any more boring. And to top it all off, Charlie shared this particular math class with Don.

Don, who was currently sleeping two desks ahead and one to the left. Hmm…

Charlie furrowed his brow. It just might work. No, he was sure it would work. As long as the teacher didn't turn around. Of course, the teacher was so absorbed in his work that he hadn't turned around once in the last fifteen minutes to check on his students. Yes, Charlie could do this.

He quietly ripped several sheets of paper out if his notebook, and worked on nonchalantly shredding them into strips. When he had a sufficient amount, Charlie rolled each strip into a small ball of paper, until he had amassed a small pile of them on the center of his desk. Satisfied with his work, Charlie placed a single ball into the center of his hand, took aim, and flicked it with the fingers of his other hand.

The ball sailed forward in a graceful arc- that Charlie was quite proud of, until it bounced of Don's cheek and onto the floor. _'Dang-it…'_

Maybe if he adjusted his hand a little to the right, a bit more force behind the flicking finger and 'Bingo!' The next ball sailed straight into Don's mouth.

Charlie held his breath; if Don woke now he was _so _dead. Don didn't so much as twitch.

Ten balls later, nine of which made it to their target, and Charlie was having a great time. He didn't notice his other classmates watching him after the third or so ball, and starting to wake up and giggle after the fifth. But by the time he made it to eleven, a **very bad thing** happened.

A ball that didn't belong to Charlie entered the picture, bouncing off Don's ear and into the collar of his shirt. Charlie was startled out of his happy place of angles and trajectories and noticed that a few of his peers were rolling paper balls of their own. And _launching them at his brother's face_!

'_Crap!'_

Charlie swept his remaining paper balls into his bag, and opened his notebook to the correct page that the teacher was going over on the board. And waited for the end of the world.

A couple minutes ticked by, and finally one of the girls flicking balls at Don's head giggled a little to loudly. The teacher spun around and _choked,_dropping his chalk on the floor. The class stilled in collective horror at the sound of the chalk shattering on the tile.

'_Three, two one…'_

"WHAT EXACTLY IS GOING ON HERE?!"

The teachers face turned and impressive shade of purple almost instantly, bypassing the red's completely. Don, startled into wakefulness, bolted upright and sent paper balls flying in all directions.. The utterly bewildered expression on his face as he gagged slightly on the balls in his mouth almost sent Charlie into a fit, though the rest of the class had no such threat of impending doom holding them back and gladly broke down into hysterics at the sight of it all.

The teacher, meanwhile, moved into more pressing matters- punishment.

"Any one who does _not_have their work done will stay after class! I will _not_ have these- these- **shenanigans** going on in my classroom! This is a place of learning!"

The teacher stalked around from row to row, checking everyone's notebooks and writing down at least two-thirds of the class. Charlie had his notes written down in advance, thank god, so the teacher passed him by with hardly a word. After all, who could believe that poor, little Charlie Epps could do such a thing?

Don was still trying to figure out what had happened, and why he apparently had really bad dandruff in his _mouth_, when the bell rang.

"I want to see everyone who's noted weren't completed after school! No exceptions. You too, Donald Epps, there is absolutely _no_ sleeping in my classroom!"

Of course when Don saw that Charlie was the first out of the class (which was unusual in of itself), he had a pretty fair idea of who had caused this, even though he wasn't quite sure what 'this' was yet. Charlie would pay, oh yes.

As soon as he got out of School.

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Neither J or I own Numb3rs, nor are we making a profit in any way by borrowing the characters. Hope you enjoyed! 


	3. Megan and the Troublesome Towel

Megan's day off was not the best, starting right while making breakfast- she burned her hands on the hot oil. After covering her finger with a band-aid to prevent further damage to the digit, she got her breakfast on the table. Then her coffee decided that it didn't like being on the table. The cup was smashed, so she cleaned up the mess and proceeded to eat, luckily accident free. She spent the rest of her morning safely on her sofa watching TV.

A few hours later she headed bathroom to take a shower. She set her cell phone down on the sink and undressed. Eager to get under the hot stream of water, she knocked her cell phone into the toilet amid a brief struggle with her shirt. She was half way through with washing her hair when she heard someone pounding on her door.

"Megan! It's Don, open the door!"

Alarmed by the the strain in his voice, she scrambled out of the shower and rushed to the door, wrapping a towel around herself haphazardly and her hair still dripping and soapy. She flung the door open eyed Don apprehensivly.

"What's wrong? Is someone hurt?!"

"M-Megan?" Don stammered, seeing his co-worker in nothing but a towel a bit of a shock. He stared open mouthed at her a bit before finally getting around to saying something coherent. "Why didn't you answer your cell?"

"My cell didn't ring Don."

"I just called your phone five minutes ago. I've pretty sure it rung on my end. Where _is_ your phone?"

"Hang on," she turned to go back to the bathroom intending fetch her cell phone from the counter top where she had left it. As Don continued to stand in her doorway, Megan strode halfway through her living room before she glanced back at Don. "Come on in."

She entered the bathroom and looked around the counter for her phone before catching sight of the toilet. Sitting at the bottom of the bowl was something small, black and rectangular. She groaned and reached reluctantly into the bowl to fetch her phone. Disgusted and phone in hand, she stalked out and slammed the bathroom door behind her, catching (unknown to her) the edge of her towel. As she turned back to Don her towel fell away; leaving her more exposed than she already was. Don stared for a moment in shock before looking away in total embarrassment.

"Megan, I-I think I should go," Don managed, looking away from her, face flaming red. "It wasn't that important."

"Are you sure?" Megan was confused as Don stood up and removed his coat.

"You might want this, Megan." He handed it to her. She looked at him oddly, until understanding dawned, then dropped both the coat and her cell phone as she fled to the bathroom.

From behind the closed door, Don heard, "Oh my god, Don, I'm so sorry!"

Don just stood in her living room with his jaw hanging open, until a small smile crept onto has face. It wasn't everyday that one of your coworkers got so worked up they failed to notice a missing towel.

Megan sank down on the toilet; her head in her hands. It was **not** a good day. She heard movement from beyond the door, and noticed a shadow blocking the light at the bottem.

"Megan, I'm going to go. Um…give me a call, would you?" And with that, Don moved back towards the front door.

"Hey, Don. Not a word, right?" she asked poking her head out the bathroom door.

"Of course, Megan," Don smiled. He walked out of her apartment still smirking, he would never be able to look at her again without that image getting stuck in his head.

Back inside the apartment, Megan sank to the floor. Her body shook with enbarressed almost-sobs, which gradually turned to a fit of hysterical laughter. Because, you know, sometimes laughing is the best way to get over something like that.


End file.
